


Emgk prompt one shots

by dovaogedys



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: Also Em calling Kells sweetheart is now my headcanon, Colson lives to distract Em, Dates and relationships are complicated, Especially if you overthink them, Established Relationship, Fluff, I may add to this so tags will be updated accordingly, I'm starting out tame, M/M, Poor Colson doesn't catch on at first, Possessive Em, SO MUCH FLUFF, Short One Shot, soft!em
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dovaogedys/pseuds/dovaogedys
Summary: Emgk one shots! I hope to add a whole bunch of them to this, one of these days. Be warned, these are going to be shorter than Em's fuse in the early 2000s, just tiny glimpses into moments in their lives as I imagine them.
Relationships: Colson Baker | Machine Gun Kelly/Eminem
Comments: 63
Kudos: 115





	1. Colson and his distracting wardrobe

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been wanting to write something fun for this pairing for a while, and finally I ran into a sort of prompt on tumblr (candy-guns19xx, sorry for the prompt theft) that made me sit down and write this, it was "Someone needs to write a fic about Kells wearing some of Eminem’s merch and Em having so many possessive feelings about it." 
> 
> I am very much looking for inspiration and right now I really like writing this kind of short ficlets without a massive plot or background story, so if there's something anyone would like to read in this format let me know, I'd love to write it. I hope you like this, short as it is!

“Hey,” Colson said in a sing-song voice, swinging the door of the office open wider than he needed to. Marshall didn’t look up from the notebook in his hands and hummed in response, frowning and trying to hold on to the train of thought when with a swish of oversized hoodie Colson landed a quick peck on his temple and sat down on his table. The pencil in Marshall’s left hand was doodling idly on a corner of the page as he stared at the words, but the touch of lips on his skin and the faint scent of coffee had driven the rhyme right out of his mind. Giving a huff that he hoped didn’t sound too irritated, he flipped the notebook shut and looked up.

For a moment he simply took in the image of Colson, sipping coffee from a go-cup and tapping at his phone, but then it dawned on Marshall what the younger man was wearing. At first it only registered that the hoodie that was at least a few sizes too large for him was dark grey, a color that he didn’t too often see on Colson, but then he noticed the large red letters printed on the front. He reached out without thinking, gripping the fabric between two fingers to straighten it out, Colson shooting him a quizzical look.

“Uh, Em? What are you doing?” Colson said slowly when Marshall just kept staring at the front of his hoodie. Marshall’s eyes snapped up to meet his as he let go of the hoodie and stood up, stepping right into Colson’s space to stand between his legs. He set his hands on the table on either side of Colson’s thighs and leaned in close enough that they were breathing the same air. As tall as the younger man was, he barely had to look up to meet Marshall’s gaze even in his hunched sitting position, and Marshall watched his eyebrows rise to meet messy strands of blonde hair. 

“What,” Marshall started in a low voice, putting some emphasis on the word, “are you wearing?” 

Colson stared at him for a second before his uncertain eyes glanced down at himself, as if he was trying to figure out what the problem with his outfit was. 

“You don’t like it?” he asked in a voice that was a mix of hesitation and defiance, just like he always did when Marshall commented on his ripped jeans or choosing not to wear a shirt under a jacket. Marshall stamped down a smile and lifted a hand to touch his fingertips lightly to the side of Colson’s neck. 

“You’re wearing a hoodie that has my name on it,” Marshall said in a voice that was barely above a growl. Colson frowned and Marshall could tell that his supply of patience with riddles was rabidly wearing thin. 

“Yeah, so?” Colson asked with a slight edge of annoyance in his voice. By now Marshall was too distracted to hide the small smile as his hand settled on Colson’s collarbone. 

“So,” he said, leaning in closer so that their lips were almost touching, “I’d really appreciate it if you could always wear my name on your clothes from now on, to make sure everyone knows you’re spoken for.” He leaned back to be able to appreciate the full effect of his words on the younger man and he wasn’t disappointed. Colson’s eyes widened and his phone almost slipped from his inattentive grip. He caught it before it dropped and tossed it aside on the table, drawing in a deep breath through his nose and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before leveling Marshall with a glare.

“Spoken for? I am not your little wife,” Colson said, and behind the good show he made of being affronted Marshall saw the light flush creeping on his cheeks. 

“No, you’re not,” Marshall smiled, “but you are mine.” He leaned in, his hand sliding from Colson’s collarbone to the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. All the irritation Colson had been feigning apparently evaporated as he gripped the front of Marshall’s shirt to pull him closer.

“If I’d known wearing your name would have this effect on you I would have flashed some of my fan merch a long time ago,” Colson muttered against Marshall’s lips as they broke apart for air, his right hand sliding down Marshall's chest to the buckle of his belt.

“Feel free to flash it from now on, sweetheart,” Marshall murmured, swiping the things on his table haphazardly to the side to make room to push Colson down on his back.


	2. A classic overthinker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colson is not prepared for soft!Em, and it's cute. There's cooking and movies, traditional dating Emgk style I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, am I bad at titles and summaries. Anyway, I've found some prompts that I wanna take a crack at but in the mean time, ta-fucking-da, I cannot emphasize enough how much I like soft!Em. Apparently I am on a bit of a fluff-streak. Also since I've gotten into this fandom rather recently these are also practice runs, I'm learning to write these two, so hopefully one day I'll be able to write something longer too. Also also, I'm sure it's clear to everyone but these chapters are all unconnected one shots, I just wanted to put them all in the same place. So far my ideas all happen in the same universe but they might be out of order or something, so they are not connected to each other.
> 
> By the way, these are written with in a sort of free flow writing style, so typos may be a thing and inconsistensies are my jam, apologies for that!

There were many things over the course of their relationship that had caught Colson off guard about Em. Although he realistically understood that being a fan of his music didn’t mean he knew the man, some things that he found out when Em finally let him closer, inch by inch, made him realize that the public image barely began to scratch the surface of Marshall Mathers. 

It wasn’t as if Colson thought that the man was nothing more than a short-tempered rap machine, but all the same if there was one thing that he never expected to see was the quiet softness when they were alone in their private moments, and there were times when gentle hands or soft kisses drove him off balance even if he’d felt them a thousand times before, let alone the first few times.

When Em invited him into his home for the first time Colson recognized it for the gesture that it was, allowing him close enough to see Em where he was comfortable, in his own space. Colson had felt clever tricking Em to invite him over under the guise of cooking for the older man, but he understood that had Em not wanted him there, he never would have made it past the gate. All the same, being there under a clever ruse made it, in Colson's mind, seem that he had to prove it was worth having him there.

So, Colson spent the evening being careful to be on his best behavior so as not to jeopardize any future visits. Cooking the spinach and avocado pasta was made somewhat more challenging when he did his best to leave the kitchen as spotless as he found it. Things weren’t made any easier by the fact that Colson couldn’t resist trying to impress his host, which consisted of him commentating like he was applying for MasterChef, and culminated in him managing to cut his thumb while trying to slice the avocado into precise cuts.

The wound wasn’t bad, just barely enough for a drop of blood, but his reaction was what made him want to sink into the earth when he looked back on it later. 

“Motherf –” he swore, dropping the knife on the cutting board with a clatter and sticking his thumb in his mouth, clutching his wrist with his uninjured hand like it was going to fall off. Marshall, sitting on the other side of the kitchen island, had barely spoken throughout the cooking, and he didn’t say one word as he slid off the stool and walked over to Colson. 

Colson expected to be berated for his clumsiness or laughed at for showing off and failing miserably, so the hands that closed around his wrists gently and pulled his injury closer for inspection were unexpected and made Colson’s mouth snap shut before he could even begin to defend himself. He forgot all about his grievous battle wound as Em looked at it, then lifted his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. 

“Do you want a band aid?” Em asked quietly. Colson managed to make a strange, noncommittal noise and kept watching Em with wide eyes. Blue eyes met his, and Colson swore he saw the ghost of a smile somewhere in that expression as Em grabbed a kitchen towel and swiped at his finger with it. “I think you’ll live, kid,” Em said with an unmistakable note of amusement in his tone. 

Colson looked at his finger and realized the wound that had brought on this scene was so tiny he couldn’t even see it anymore. With a mixture of embarrassment and bewilderment he frowned at the offending digit.

“So, you cut up the avocado into thin slices..” Em prompted, pulling out another stool right next to the cutting board and looking at Colson expectantly, as if this spinach and avocado pasta might be the most interesting thing in the world. Colson hesitated, but took up the knife again and continued the show, ignoring the warmth of his own cheeks. He was remarkably less flashy about it going forward, which was a blessing, since the way Em sat next to him, leaning on the counter and smiling slightly like he wasn’t even listening was distracting enough that the poor avocado was mutilated beyond recognition by the time Colson was finished cutting it. 

Later, when they were watching a movie Colson had insisted Em see or his cultural knowledge would forever be lacking, Colson sat on a sofa for nearly an hour with his back so straight that it began to ache. In his mind a furious battle was raging, with one side telling him to relax and stop being weird, and the other side telling him to keep both of his feet firmly planted on the floor and think of some interesting observation to discuss about the movie.

Colson wasn’t sure why exactly he was trying so hard. Somehow the fact that he understood what a huge deal it was for Em to have him there made him want to make sure that Em wouldn’t live to regret it in any way, to the point that he was acting like a neighbor over for a barbecue rather than someone visiting a man they were rabidly falling for and wanted to see all kinds of naked. 

With all of this going on in his mind, he was barely paying any attention to said man or the movie, and he didn’t snap out of it until Em bumped their shoulders together gently.

“Kells,” he said, and finally Colson realized the movie was paused, “I can hear you overthinking.” 

“Oh, right,” Colson said, giving a weird, strained chuckle that was supposed to sound carefree. “Sorry.”

“Maybe you could tell me what’s up and we could overthink it together?” Em said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Colson bit his lip and tried to figure out a way to explain it without sounding too insane.

“I just, uh,” he started, sighed, and tried again, picking at his sleeve, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t regret inviting me here, and it’s making me act like a fucking weirdo –”

“Kells,” Marshall interrupted him, turning to him and lifting Colson’s face with two fingers under his jaw. He waited until Colson's eyes met his before continuing. “I don’t regret inviting you here. I want you here, alright, sweetheart?” 

Colson opened his mouth to apologize for being so strange, then though better of it and simply nodded. Em watched him closely for a moment before apparently being satisfied that Colson had understood him, then turned back to the television. 

He unpaused the movie, and just as Colson was starting to overthink this exchange, the thoughts were driven right out of his mind by Em pulling him closer. It started with them holding hands, but by the end of the movie Colson was lounging on the sofa with one leg dangling over the backrest, his head in Em’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally the first time I've ever published anything on ao3, so anyone who reads, leaves kudos and/or comments is officially my best friend forever. I love the comments and I really hope you like this♥


	3. Colson in crisis mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colson has a situation and reaches out to Em for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was thought of in kahoots with my sister because I wanted to write a text conversation between these two. It was also an interesting little lesson in ao3 HTML so yay! 
> 
> This is sort of light-hearted, and I didn't want to pay too much attention to making it sound like actual text messages, I thought it might sound a bit forced or something. Hope you guys like it!
> 
> Oh also, I know I've updated this rather quickly but I have a lot of work coming up so I might fall off for a few days, but worry not, I still have at least a handful of prompts that I want to get to and the list is only getting longer, lol.

Missed call from Kells

_Em!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Answer the phone  
Fucking SOS  
I have a fcuking situation here_

Missed call from Kells 

_Please answer tHE PHONE  
Oh my god oh my god oh my god  
What do I doooooo_

Missed call from Kells

What  
What’s happening?  
Kells?

_oh my GODDD_

Stop freaking out and tell me what’s happened

_I don’t know what the fucking protocol here is Em_

Colson, either you calm the fuck down and tell me  
what’s wrong or I’m getting on a fucking plane right now.

_It’s Casie_

What about her? Did something happen?  
Colson for gods sake what. is. wrong

_I can’t believe it  
She has a boyfriend_

…rly  
You fucking  
I will kill you.

_THIS IS SERIOUS_

No the fuck it isn’t.

_YES IT IS  
WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO_

Alright first of all you calm the fuck DOWN  
And stop messaging me

_I CAN’T you have to help me what the fuck do I do???_

NOTHING  
She’s 9, right? You do NOTHING  
Jesus fucking Christ Colson I was convinced someone had died

_WELL SOMEONE’S ABOUT TO_

Oh lord  
You can’t go beat up a 9yr old boy, Colson,  
let’s just get that straight right away

_Then what the hell do I do???_

Nothing. Seriously, why does this require action from u?

_Because my BABY has a BOYFRIEND?? As her dad I’m  
pretty sure I should be doing something about this?_

Sure, if she was 15 you’d have to put the  
fear of god in the kid but she’s nine

_What did you do when your kids had their first boyfriends then??_

Freaked the hell out, of course  
Pretty much had to be talked off a ledge

_Well then I guess I’m asking the wrong person for help here_

Actually you’re asking the right person, because I’ve had practice  
Ok here’s what u do: calm down, ask her stuff about this boyfriend  
of hers and be sympathetic when they break up by the weekend

_What if they end up dating for a long time?  
What if they end up married or something??_

Then you walk her down the aisle and make sure  
that bitch knows her dad is keeping an eye on him

_VERY funny Em_

I wasn’t really joking but ok  
Anyway she’s 9, you don’t really need to do anything other than make sure she  
knows how to set boundaries and that she tells on him if he doesn’t respect her

_He’s nine, I doubt that kid knows what respect is??_

Then it’s a teachable moment. Just talk to her, really this is good  
bc you can make sure she knows it’s ok to talk to you about boyfriends  
U didn’t freak out in front of her right

_No  
I excused myself very calmly_

I’m sure u did

_I’m so not ready for this Em, I thought I had YEARS before this became  
an issue_

I know what you mean, but it’s not a real issue yet, she’s so young.  
Be happy that this happened before she hit puberty,  
at least now she’ll listen to you a little bit

_Did your daughters listen to you_

Of course they did

_Oh ok sure_

How dare you  
I am an excellent father

_Ok ok don’t bite my head off, superdad  
Srsly tho this is making me feel all kinds of weird  
Why can’t she stay a kid forever_

Said every parent ever  
Trust me, even when they grow up and get boyfriends  
and get hurt etc it’s only getting better

_I guess  
Am I allowed to kick a 9year old if he hurts her?_

I mean I probably would  
Jk no u can’t, but u can make sure she’ll be alright. From the ashes of  
their inevitable breakup she can rise anew and if you stop freaking out  
and talk to her, maybe she won’t get hurt too many times

_Right  
This is fucking painful man_

I know

_I wish you were here_

I know

_I miss you_

I know

_Stop saying that_

Fine I miss you too :P

_Oh my god I can’t believe you just used that emoji_

Did it make u smile tho?

_I laughed my ass off at u_

Good, that’s what I was going for  
Talk to your kid. Call me later ok?

_Ok. Thanks_

No problem. Next time you give me a heart  
attack like that tho I’m changing my number

_Ha I’ll try to keep that in mind♥_


	4. Em gets cuddly, Colson is demanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lazy little evening. Cuddling, fluffy fluff, tiny bit of something close to banter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write some more fluff, and I probably will again, ha.
> 
> Again, working a lot, so probably can't update for at least a few days, but I do plan to keep them coming! I really, really appreciate everyone who reads, leaves kudos and/or comments♥

Colson was flicking idly through his Instagram, sprawled out on the sofa in a half sitting, half laying position that definitely didn’t used to make his back ache so much. He wasn’t paying much attention to the feed of images, he was much more focused on the voice drifting through the house.

He couldn’t make out any of the words, but sometimes he heard a laugh or an exclamation that made him smile, nonetheless. He glanced at the time and was momentarily surprised that Em had managed to be on the phone for a whole half hour already. Sometimes it was hard enough to get him to string two words together, although other times there was no shutting him up. Colson couldn’t remember what the subject had been, but he did remember the feeling when he had listened to Em rant about something that had greatly irritated him a few weeks ago. It had had nothing to do with Colson, he had only been listening to the venting, and somehow it had still made him feel like a 6-year-old in trouble with their parents.

Momentarily lost in thought, reliving the memory, Colson didn’t notice the phone call had ended until he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and looked back to see Em frowning at him from behind the sofa. 

“I know you do yoga, but do you also have no joints?” Em said gruffly, eyeing Colson’s limbs. “How do you even get into a position like that?”

Colson glanced down his legs, and although he was starting to feel uncomfortable, there was no way he would ever admit to it. Arranging his expression into a relaxed grin he let his head fall against the backrest and looked up at Em.

“Just because you’re made of solid wood, doesn’t mean a young man such as myself can’t bend into positions like this.” 

Em raised his eyebrows and Colson was sure he saw something that may have been a smile attempting to break through the façade. Em leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, at which Colson’s cocky grin melted at once into a genuine smile.

“Well, I do love to bend you over,” Em murmured, and this time Colson caught the smile before it was hidden. 

“Oh, very clever,” Colson said, but couldn’t help laughing. Em walked around the sofa and took his hand, half-heartedly pulling at him. 

“I am very clever. Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said. Colson rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be pulled up. Had he been at home, he wouldn’t have even considered going to bed for at least a few more hours. He did sometimes tease Em about going to bed so early, but if he was honest the more nights he spent with the man the more he began to cherish going to bed at a normal human time and waking up feeling as if he’d actually rested. 

Colson was safely tucked under blankets in the huge bed by the time Em came out of the bathroom, and the phone was glued to his hand again. He barely noticed it when the lights were turned off and didn’t react to the bed dipping, but the phone being yanked out of his hands elicited an indignant yelp. 

“Hey! I was watching something,” he grumbled. Em chuckled as he tossed the phone on the bedside table far too carelessly for Colson’s liking. 

“I’ve told you, you’re welcome in my bed but your phone isn’t.”

“That’s discrimination, you know,” Colson said, wrinkling his nose. Em settled next to him and looked at him with an expression that was all fond amusement that meant he found Colson’s indignation nothing short of adorable, and Colson had to fight to stave off a smile. 

“Call your congressman in the morning, then. For now, sleep.” Em said. Colson was about to fold his arms on his chest and make sure to pout as aggressively as he was able, but paused before he could when Em propped himself up on an elbow and loomed over him. 

Colson had been with the man long enough to no longer be intimidated by him, but something about being so close and looking up at him still made his breath become shallower. Em, who Colson was sure was aware of this, simply watched him with a small smile on his face before leaning down to bring their lips together. The kiss was a slow, soft thing that Colson wanted to melt into, and he brought one hand up to grip Em’s shirt to make sure he didn’t try to cut it short. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Em said, smiling, when they broke apart, throwing a quick glance at the handful of shirt Colson was holding. Colson shrugged, not letting go.

“Just making sure.”

“Oh, of course,” Em nodded. He settled again next to Colson, who felt that since Em was wrapping an arm tightly around him he might chance letting go of the shirt. He closed his eyes, comfortable and warm and ready to fall asleep right there, but Em started pressing small kisses to his jawline, his cheek, under his ear. When he could no longer stand the tickling of the beard, Colson turned to face him.

“I thought we were going to sleep,” he muttered. Even in the darkness he could see Em’s eyes open, watching him. 

“We are. Soon,” Em said, catching his lips in another kiss that Colson was only too eager for. “Ish,” he continued.

“Right,” Colson scoffed, “so you’re just gonna keep me up past my bedtime and pretend like you were the one who wanted to go to bed so early?”

“You know,” Em murmured, giving him another quick kiss, “sleeping would be a lot easier if you didn’t talk all the time.” 

“You’re an ass,” Colson informed him and grinned when Em laughed. 

“That’s been established,” he said and pulled Colson closer. “Now shut up and let me cuddle you.”

Em kissed him again, and Colson let the lazy kissing and hugging go on for several minutes before opening his mouth again when Em’s lips were leaving tingling spots on his neck. 

“So,” he said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, “just cuddling?”

He would have missed the soft laugh had Em not been so close, but the next kiss that landed on his lips was significantly less lazy.


	5. Easy-bake oven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Em makes a gesture, Colson doesn't quite keep up. There's a lot of staring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is different from the others in that there's no established relationship here, or a relationship of any kind, really. This is set sometime well after Killshot when at least most of the dust had settled, and it's based on the thing about Colson not getting an Easy-bake oven as a kid because his father thought it seemed gay. I vaguely remember seeing that somewhere on tumblr, and a vague memory is all I apparently need, lol. There might eventually be something of a follow-up chapter to this one, hopefully!
> 
> Also, sorry for taking so long to update, I'm working a lot and recently got started on my master's thesis, so I don't really have a whole lot of time on my hands. However, I do have more in the works and I really appreciate the people who read and/or comment❤️

Colson spent a good few minutes just staring at the sliver of the box he’d revealed by tearing at the wrapping paper. He couldn’t even begin to find the start of a train of thought that might explain what he was looking at and why, and the stick figures and colorful animals on the wrapping paper clearly meant for children were all obviously mocking his confusion with their happy smiles. 

Slowly he managed to pull the rest of the paper off, letting it fall in strips on the floor of the dressing room. Just as he was about to open the box to see if it really was what it looked like, Rook opened the door so suddenly that Colson’s organs rearranged themselves in their alarm, his heart lodging somewhere near his throat. 

“Hey, dude, are we –” Rook started loudly, then cut himself off, staring at the box on the table. His pause gave Colson enough time to catch his breath and start soothing his hammering heart. “Is that..” Rook started, taking a step into the room with a nonplussed expression on his face. 

Suddenly unwilling to share the mystery before he could solve it himself, Colson turned the face of the box away and shrugged as if it was nothing interesting. 

“Are we going?” he said in a tone that he hoped conveyed he didn’t want to talk about it. Rook gave him a funny frown but nodded and started to back out of the door.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said before pulling the door closed. 

Colson stared at the door for a moment before turning to the box again, but after thinking about it he decided it was best to leave the mystery for another time. If he started to examine it now it would take him ages to get moving, and Rook and probably everyone else would barge in to interrupt his moment to drag him on stage.

He made sure that nobody would be allowed in his dressing room while he was gone.

*** 

After the show Colson was proud of how naturally he was able to dodge everyone and anyone who tried to coax him to go out partying with them. Normally, on any other day, he’d be among the first people out of the door, but this time he had more pressing issues to attend to. 

The box was sitting on the table exactly where he’d left it, and even the scraps of paper still littered the floor. Colson went to the fridge to fetch a bottle of water, then settled on the couch and pulled the box down to the floor between his knees. He opened it, careful not to tear any of the cardboard and stared at the thing inside. 

It wasn’t the first model he’d wanted when he was little, but it was a pink one that he had, once upon a time, seriously considered buying for himself. He remembered being something like 16, seeing it in a store and wishing he had the money to buy it and somewhere to keep it where his father wouldn’t see it. Carefully he lifted it out of the box, pushed the box aside with his foot and set it on the table. 

Colson sat back on the couch and stared at it, frowning. There had been no note on the paper, and he hadn’t been told of anyone dropping by to bring something to his dressing room, so who on earth had left it for him, and more importantly, why?

Twisting the cap of the water bottle back and forth absentmindedly, he went through a list of everyone he could think of who could be behind this but didn’t become any the wiser. Some 20 minutes later when he heard the door open behind him and thought Rook must have come back to persuade him, he tore his frown off the mystery only reluctantly, as if staring at it hard enough might provide him with answers. 

Seeing who was leaning on the frame of his door didn’t prove any more useful in solving the enigma, as the sight drove every single thought out of his mind, and all he could do was raise his eyebrows and feel his mouth fall open. 

“Was it the one you wanted?” 

He may as well have been speaking some foreign language, because Colson didn’t understand a word. 

“What?” His voice came out in hoarse croak from performing, and feeling as if his brain and his lungs were being constricted didn’t help much. 

In the doorway, Eminem raised one eyebrow at him and nodded to the table. 

“The Easy-bake oven. Was it the one you wanted?”

Colson opened his mouth a few times like a fish on land, then glanced back at the table too. “It was – I didn’t – you?” he managed to say. 

Eminem gave a small sigh, and the exasperated feel to it managed to bring some of Colson’s brain activity back to life through the force of irritation at feeling like the entire situation was designed to mock him. Wondering how exactly Eminem had expected him to react, he snapped his mouth closed and sat up straighter as the older man walked up to the couch and pointed to the oven. 

“Do you like it or not?” he asked, and the fine note of impatience in his voice made the childish part of Colson want to act like he didn't understand English. 

“It was from you?” he asked, proud of himself for being able to string an entire sentence together while still busy trying to make any sense of this. 

“Yes,” the man replied simply, with no further explanation. 

“Uh,” Colson said when no other reply seemed forthcoming, “why?”

Eminem shrugged one shoulder and looked around the room, as if interested in the décor. “I happened to hear you used to want one.”

Colson stared at him, then at the oven, then back to the man. He felt as if all this had to be some cruel joke, that at any moment things would go horribly wrong if he let his guard down. It was made all the more confusing by the fact that the part of him that had been practically in love with the guy for more than a decade was delighted at this strange turn of events. Now that the initial shock was starting to wear off, his treacherous heart was fluttering again and errand thoughts about asking for autographs floated trough his mind. Colson tried to shoo those offending thoughts away, telling himself that he couldn’t let it show how much this situation was throwing him.

“Don’t you hate me?” he blurted out, then cursed himself inwardly and closed his hands on the fabric of the couch to ensure he wouldn’t slap himself for sounding like an insecure teenager. Eminem gave him a look that was almost surprised, then sighed again, shaking his head.

“No, Kelly. I don’t hate you,” he said. “Would you just tell me if you like the damn thing or not?”

“Oh,” Colson said, having nearly forgotten all about the oven, “yeah. I mean, yes, I do. I – it was – that’s the one I almost bought for myself. How did you –”

“Good,” Eminem cut his rambling off, looking satisfied and turning away. Colson’s brain wasn’t quite working the way it was supposed to yet, too busy trying to figure out even the right questions, let alone the answers to them, so the older man was almost at the door when he finally managed to form another thought. 

“Wait!” he exclaimed, turning around fully, kneeling on the couch and leaning on the backrest. With a hand on the door handle Eminem turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Why did you get me that?”

He felt as if the blue eyes were staring straight into his soul as he received a thoughtful look. “I thought it might be time to put the past in the past,” Eminem said, and Colson was as surprised by the softness of his voice as he said it as he was by the words themselves. He had, for a long time now, been rethinking things and hoping that once the smoke cleared there might be a way for them to bury the hatchet somehow. It wasn’t as though he expected them to become friends, but something shy of homicidal would work for a start. 

“But why an Easy-bake oven?” he said, his own voice becoming quieter, subconsciously mirroring the man, and something in the way Eminem was carrying himself made his heart beat slow down to something less frantic. It was as if it was the most normal thing for him to drop by Colson’s dressing room and gift him things that not even his closest friends would think to get him, and the confidence that it must take to be able to pull this off and not seem the slightest bit fazed impressed him, despite himself.

He swore he saw a small smile flutter across Eminem’s face as he turned away and started to leave the room. “Because the reason you didn’t get one when you were a kid wasn’t good enough. See you around, Kells.” 

With that Colson was left staring at the closed door again, but after trying to figure out the entire meeting and failing to know where to start, he settled with imprinting every word, every gesture and expression into his memory for later analysis, and turned to examine the little pan and packets of cake-mix that were going to be keeping him up tonight. As he skimmed the instructions the last words hung in the air around him, echoing in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very much appreciated♥


End file.
